Standing Before the Mirror
by Golffer5
Summary: Very personal look at aging and how Grissom sees himself. Does Sara see the same reflection?
1. Chapter 1

_**Standing Before the Mirror**_

There came a time in my life when my reflection in the mirror seemed to bend. In the past, I had not been attentive to the physical changes of growing older. Now I notice my hairline that was once thick shows signs of thinning. The attributes I previously noticed least are more predominant now. Before her, I never looked closely enough to see how my body changed through the years. I am more conscious of those changes now that I am with her. It won't be long until she notices that I am getting old.

Standing before the mirror, my eyes appear tired. It looks like I have been up all day processing a scene but I have not. In time will she notice that my eyes are not as bright as they were in years past? I look around for a bottle of Visine. The drops will clear them up but will not take away the bags that I have collected over the years. It won't be long until she notices that I am getting old.

I feel the stiffness in my back from the activities of the night before as I step into the shower. My showers have increased in length over the years, more so since I have been living with Sara. The hot water pounds my muscles to loosen and invigorate them. The pain in my joints increases with my level of activity at work while my recovery time lengthens. I am highly aware of the stiffness in my knees as I lift my foot up for cleansing. Adjusting my center of gravity, my weight bearing ankle tends to buckle and shift; more age related weakness I whisper to myself. Moving the cloth along my calves, I notice the muscle tone I once had has reduced, given away to the years of bending and kneeling over crime scenes. It won't be long until she notices that I am getting old.

While circling my chest with the fragrant doused wash cloth, a river of perfumed water flows down the center of my stomach and over my lifeless member. Good thing she likes grey hair I thought to myself. Before Sara, showers were not just for cleaning, they were my trigger for release. It won't be long until she notices that I am getting old.

I shut the water off and reach for the towel she conveniently left me on the commode. The smell of fabric softener overwhelms my senses. The towels I previously owned were quite rough and thin. I dry myself thoroughly looking down at my feet noticing the patches of hair missing in places on my legs. The tale-tell voids created by years of crossing my legs in the same manner. I wrap the dampened towel around my waist and tuck an edge in at the top to hold it snugly to my body. I am not as thin as I use to be. Gravity has played an integral part in the shifting of my beltline. It won't be long until she notices that I am getting old.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Standing before the mirror**_ he doesn't notice me watching as he prepares himself for work. His shoulders, broad and strong, carry the weight of a thousand souls. Finely textured calves stretch as he leans closer to the mirror. The towel opens slightly exposing his knees and thighs. His tendons flutter under his shifting weight, gaining control of his center of gravity. His gentlemen's form touches my heart like no other.

The comb sleekly separates his curls for a fleeting moment before they rebound into place. Tiny droplets of moisture reflecting in the fluorescent light create the appearance of highlights in his hair. As he reaches for the shaving cream he pauses for a moment looking at his reflection. I thought he felt me watching, but without regard he continued with his ritual. His hands work in harmony as he prepares his shaving cream. He begins to whisk the mixture in a rhythm that has become customary throughout his life. His gentlemen's form touches my heart like no other.

With an upward tilt of his chin, the muscles of his neck slowly stretch creating ripples of lush skin on the back of his neck. His hand lifts the blade to his throat sending prisms of light dancing around the room. As the process concludes, he wipes his face clean and admires his handiwork. He disappears momentarily to return with scales in his hand. Pushing back the floor mat, he bends to set the scales down and steps up, righting himself with his hand against the wall. The scales should tell him he is perfect with every ounce. With a dismissive gesture, he steps away and meticulously returns to his customary procedure. His gentlemen's form touches my heart like no other.

The raise of each arm while applying deodorant extends the muscles of his back. My eyes are drawn downward to a small mole that is rarely seen but always felt when we make love. I strain my eyes to view the two dimples on the lower most part of his back only to find them covered by the towel. He finishes and turns away from the mirror. I look back down at the book I am reading to find a quote from Sir Winston Churchill. "_Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb". _His gentlemen's form touches my heart like no other.


End file.
